The Official First Order Guide to Gift-Giving
by neriine
Summary: Hux knows he's good at engineering, leading, and shouting. He's never had to prove himself as a present-buyer before. Now, with a saberless, freeloading Kylo Ren stuck on his ship and the rules of common courtesy dictating he find a suitable gift for him for Founder's Day, Hux's problems just keep multiplying. [Originally posted on AO3 30/12/16]
1. Chapter 1

Written as a gift for Very Merry Kylux 2016. Details (and the giftee!) can be found on my AO3 (link in profile)

I've used Founder's Day rather than Life Day because as far as I can see the Empire wasn't a big fan of Life Day. Due to that I personally don't think the Order would celebrate it either. Founder's Day is established in the new canon and all we know is some kind of roast bird is eaten on it. That's vague and celebratory enough for me! Dedication Day is completely fabricated.

* * *

It all started with a calendar notification. Between the endless meetings and towers of paperwork Hux had been graced with following the destruction of Starkiller Base, he'd hardly had the chance to sleep, let alone check the date. He had been in a daze, still writing – though his cheek rested on his desk and his eyes were getting harder and harder to open – when the beeping erupted from his datapad and wrenched him awake. Jolted, he groped around to turn the alarm off.

The notification on his screen was a reminder to 'Send Father Dedication Day card'. Hux groaned, gracefully dislodged a flimsi stuck to his cheek by tacky ink (no matter how advanced a level Hux and his fellow engineers developed First Order technology to, the bureaucracy of the higher-ups would always have its hard copy pound of flesh), and swiped at the screen to send the notification away.  
Dedication Day? Already? Surely not. The Arkanian holiday was only a month before Founder's Day and it was hardly that time of year yet. Right? Hux tapped on his calendar and scrolled through the months. _There_ was Starkiller Base's first firing (marked with a little firework emoticon) and – well – he hadn't put a mark on the date years of his work had been destroyed, but he'd never forget it. He scrolled further down.  
Ugh. There it was. The desaturated red highlight showing the current date was on the little square that was also labelled 'Dedication Day'. Scrolling down one more time showed that yes, in roughly a month it would be Founder's Day, festive scourge of the First Order calendar. Hells.  
Hux wasn't sure what was going to happen this year. Usually, Founder's Day meant a day off for everyone (bar essential technicians and navigators being on call), slightly better rations, and a ghastly party for the officers that usually consisted of heavy-handed political posturing and enough alcohol to ensure there was a lot of heavy handed something else as well. This year, though, there was a general miasma of sobriety that made festivity feel a bit out of place. Like a stripper at a funeral.

At least the drain on resources this year would hopefully prevent the party. Hux would rather swallow a blaster shot – or worse, spend ten minutes locked in a room with Kylo Ren – than go through another one of those. The strutting of inexperienced officers was almost physically painful, and their terrible attempts at suggesting their power left Hux ready to scream: _'Yes! I am a bastard! How very original of you for noticing! I'm also your superior officer and could space you whenever I felt like it!'_. Though, he'd probably have to drink a lot of alcohol to respond like that.  
That was the other awful thing about the parties: his rank prevented him from _fraternising_ in dark corners like the other officers, but also from downing enough alcohol to make the night pass smoothly otherwise. You can hardly be taken seriously as a general if your subordinates have seen you puke into your hat on the journey from the function room to your quarters, after all.

Sometimes, though, Hux wondered if keeping up appearances was really that important. Kylo Ren got away with his massive displays of emotion towards various poor, unsuspecting control panels, and everyone still feared him. Admittedly the invisible magic powers and giant laser sword gave him an edge, but still. Part of it had to be authority, right? Anyway, Ren had lost his lightsaber with Starkiller. After Snoke had kicked him back to the Finalizer following their fool's errand to his hideout – what a waste of resources, to summon Ren and Hux all that way only to pronounce Ren 'unready' – all the crew were still scared of him. Would that fear continue for the foreseeable future or-

Hux paused, suddenly realising something.  
Good manners dictated a co-commander should really buy their counterpart a Founder's Day gift, even if they bought no one else anything. It was just common courtesy. Even in the piecemeal Academy Hux grew up in – another Star Destroyer, his class only comprising of the dregs rescued from the Empire – one gave something – be it a new stylus, valuable information or even just a portion of your rations – to one's closest comrades on Founder's Day.  
He'd got away with it every year before now. Ren disappeared often, sometimes for months at a time, and so far every Founder's Day had fallen within one of those disappearances. Now, though, with Ren pacing the ship like the trapped and wounded animal he was, Hux would be forced to find him a present.

Uh.

Hux carefully picked up his small pile of finished paperwork and dropped it into his out-tray. The pile of unfinished paperwork was three times its size, and when he wedged it back atop another pile of forms, the whole thing wobbled precariously. He set his datapad down on his now-clear desk and opened a blank note.

What do you get a Dark Force user for Founder's Day?

Hux absently chewed the end of his stylus. It sounded more like the setup for a joke than an actual dilemma. Hux hadn't really seen Kylo Ren actually _want_ anything besides the information to Skywalker. Was there anything functional he could get him? He had a face. And hair. Hux would gift him hair products, only he highly doubted Ren used First Order-issued products in the first place, what with how soft and fluffy that hair was.

Hux pulled up the Finalizer inventory. If he couldn't think of something to get Ren, he could at least order a card up to his quarters so he could do what the kriffing notification that started this whole mess had been telling him to do. Maybe while he was keying in the code for 'blank white card', something would miraculously pop up and save his brain.  
The results – top of the list, the card he needed. Further down – white blankets, spare Stormtrooper helmets, standard-issue toothpaste. No luck. He tapped on the result he needed. Maybe the 'related items' list would help. Socks – no, drill bit set – no, edible underwear – he made a mental note to get that removed, and also to demote whichever idiot ordered that for the Finalizer inventory in the first place, datapad battery – no.  
Hux let his finger hover over the 'order' button, waiting for some power to give him a final burst of inspiration.  
…

?

Ugh.  
He jabbed at the 'order' button, shoved his datapad out of the way, and dropped his forehead on the desk.

His co-commander present brainstorm soon turned back into a doze, once again feeling his eyelids dragging heavier with each blink until he couldn't keep them open at all.  
He had no idea how long it had been when he was woken once again by the obnoxious beeping of his datapad. He had to change his kriffing notification sounds.

It was a call from Phasma. He opened the line.  
'Sir. We've found some more items in one of the old silos. Requesting your permission to trash them.'  
The old silos were, like many parts of the Finalizer, salvaged from Imperial Star Destroyer wrecks. Sometimes their cargo was left inside, difficult to find in the massive storage containers. So far, only armour parts and bolts had turned up in the Finalizer's silos, but all the Order's senior officers had heard the legends about people finding more precious things in old Imperial parts.  
'That's a negative, Captain,' Hux replied, 'Retrieve the items. I would inspect them myself before getting rid of them.'  
'Yes, sir. We're in General Storage Vestibule Leth.' Hux closed the comm line. He stood and stretched, hearing the joints in his knees and wrists click.  
The vast silos - and the storage levels they were on - were even colder than the regular-use hallways of the Finalizer, so Hux actually pulled his coat on rather than draping it over his shoulders.

Phasma was overseeing a small group of 'troopers, who were arranging the items on the desk inside the vestibule. They looked up when Hux entered, then nodded their respects.

'Captain Phasma. What have you found?'

'Several of the usual armour parts, but when we were extracting them we found some other items that might be more interesting.' Phasma tilted her helmet toward the small clutter atop the desk.

There was an empty blaster shell, a strap of grenades, and a small tin box that seemed to have escaped most of the batterings the other items had sustained.

'Do you have any idea what this is, Captain?' Hux went to pick the box up.

'No, sir. We scanned everything for threats. All negative. Unfortunate that those grenades are useless, though.' Hux nodded, distracted by the box. His fingers found the catch and he popped it open, smoothly sliding out a tray. There were neatly folded cloths, bottles of cleaning fluids and polish, and a small kit of tweezers and scissors. A helmet-cleaning kit. And a high end one.

'Your lucky day, Captain.' Hux tilted the tray towards her.

'I think not, General. My armour requires specialist care for the materials. Such a kit would be wasted on me.' Hux rested the kit back on the desk. Ren had a helmet, right? He remembered all the scratches and gouges in it. Maybe a portable little kit like this would help him keep on top of repairs.

'Then… if you don't want it, may I keep it? I think I can find use for it.'

Phasma nodded.

'You need no permission from me, sir.'

He walked all the way back to his quarters with a spring in his step, increased ever more by the delivery of his card awaiting him behind the door.

He had just sealed the card to his father (crushing the minuscule urge to tape razor-blades along the top of the envelope) when a tinny 'ding!' let him know there was someone at his door. By the way it was followed by at least ten other identical tinny 'ding!'s, it also let him know there was an _impatient_ someone with _no respect for authority_ at his door. What was Kylo Ren doing, visiting him?

Hux jabbed the door release button on his desk, allowing the man himself to sweep into his quarters.

'Ren. Why are you here?' Ren stepped near to Hux. If he was trying a physical intimidation tactic, it wasn't working. Hux knew he was tiny compared to the musculature of the other man, but he'd never feared Ren. He had a blaster. And, if all else failed, his teeth, and a knowledge of major arteries.

'The bridge needed someone to drop off these forms to you. I volunteered.'

Hux's eyes narrowed.  
'Surely a simple courier task is _beneath_ someone so powerful and all-knowing as you. Why are you here, really? '

Ren leant close, his beaklike nose inches away from Hux's.

'You've been avoiding me, General. You're hardly ever on the bridge anymore.'

What? Yes, Hux had kept his distance from Ren just after the Spectacular Starkiller Fuckup, but that had mostly been to keep himself from punching the melodramatic bastard in the face and reopening the tender wound bisecting it. Since then the only concern on Hux's mind had been the endless paperwork, desperately trying to keep his head above the ever-louder murmurings that _he wasn't right for the job, what was Snoke thinking letting an engineer become a General, did you hear who his father was – and who his mother wasn't?_ Ren had become a footnote to his life, a force (heh) only witnessed in the memos sent to him requesting new equipment to replace what he broke.

'Actually, Ren, I haven't. Elevated as you are, you may not have realised that blowing up a superweapon incurs an awful lot of paperwork.' Hux inclined his head towards his intimidating in-tray. 'I've merely been doing my job. You might not have heard of those. My sincerest apologies that my life revolves around something other than you.'

Ren seemed to ignore the vitriol in Hux's words, instead craning his neck to see the stacks of forms towering on the desk. His eyes widened.

'They've got you doing all _that_? These higher level folks must love wasting your time.'

'Unfortunately they must be done, if we are to keep the Finalizer and any rebuild efforts are to be considered.'

'We?' Ren looked confused, the muscles in his jaw tensing slightly. It was odd to be standing so close to him, to be able to observe how his face moved.

'Yes, we. They might take this as evidence that the Order's force users cannot be involved in such delicate matters. You'd be taken off this ship same as I would, and the rest of your knights would be treated likewise.'

'A shame. I like the Finalizer.'

'You do?'

'Yeah.' Ren's face suddenly broke into a lopsided smile. It distorted the scar like a fault line, a ribbon of red mapping the contours of his features. 'The food's okay and you always replace the things I break.'

'You do realise if you could stop taking your emotions out on my equipment, there'd probably be enough money saved to fund an entire new Starkiller.' Hux raised his eyebrows.

'You might not understand now, General, but believe me, my destructive tendencies can be very useful.'

'How, exactly?' Ren's smile seemed to widen while his eyes focused on something behind Hux.

'General, when do all those forms have to be returned by?'

'ASAP. Everyone's schedules have been abandoned for a while now.'

Ren's smile turned into a full out grin.

Almost lazily he raised his hand towards the towering in-tray, and with a flick it combusted. The whole pile neatly reduced itself to ash in seconds, with barely a scorch mark to the tray beneath.

'Wh- Ren! I needed to finish those! My life is literally on the line here.'

'A freak accident. Some sparks from some nearby maintenance work. It couldn't be helped. Now you can work through the forms as they're resent instead of having to do them all at once.'

'Thank you, Ren.' Hux swallowed his pride to get the words out. Ren was so unpredictable in his motives – he was sure to have some other selfish reasons – but Hux _had_ slowly been going mad from the work.  
'Make sure you come up to the bridge more. It's boring not having anyone to argue with.' Ren tossed the package of forms he'd come in holding into the newly emptied in-tray.

'Where did you get those from, really?'

Ren grinned again. Hux wished he would stop doing that. It lit up his asymmetric features and caused a weird ache in Hux's back and fingertips. It must have been some weird Force thing. Smile fighting. Or something.

'I stole them off a trooper on my way down.'

The weird ache abruptly vanished. Hux didn't know whether to be pleased or not.

While brushing the slick out of his hair before going to bed, Hux found his thoughts wandering to Ren. Had he truly missed Hux being on the bridge? Or was this just another way Ren had found to add torment to his life? Well. If that was what Ren wanted, Hux would be happy to give as good as he got. He could almost picture the look on Ren's face as he socked him in the jaw. He was almost glad Ren didn't wear his helmet anymore – it made Hux's fantasies of causing him grievous bodily harm a lot more satisfying.

His… helmet.

The bottom dropped out of Hux's stomach as a sick revelation came over him. Ren wasn't wearing his helmet anymore. Ren hadn't been wearing his helmet when Hux rescued him from Starkiller. The image of dark strands of hair strewn across blindingly white snow, speckled with blood, flashed in his mind. Of _course_ Ren didn't wear his karking helmet. Ren's helmet was little more than some particles mixed in with the many other particles of Starkiller and its inhabitants.

He picked up the little tin box and threw it into the bottom of his wardrobe.

Back to the drawing board.

* * *

This fic is up in full on my AO3, but I really want the experience of not posting all the chapters of a fic at once! There are ten chapters to this, and I'll probably update daily :D


	2. Chapter 2

I hope you enjoy chapter 2! :) This is a fic I worked really hard on ( u v u )

* * *

Okay. So due to Ren's infuriating lack of helmet, a helmet cleaning kit just would not do as a present.

Hux needed to think of a better idea. He nibbled on the inside of his lip subtly, trying to hide his distraction from the bridge crew. Perched on a stool near the main control panel, Hux was working his way through the few replacement forms already sent after Ren's fiery episode last night. Every so often he looked up and fixed whoever happened to glance his way with a stern glare. Productivity went up when a healthy level of fear was maintained on the bridge.

A furious howl cut through the quiet mutterings of the crew's daily tasks. Wall panels buckled and dented as heavy bootsteps clanged ever closer. Ren stormed into the room and up to Hux.

'With me.' He snarled, turning on his heel. Various holoscreens started to fragment and spark. Hux set his stack of flimsis down on the nearest panel and sped to catch up with Ren.

As they walked, Ren started speaking at Hux. 'He postponed our meeting. Again. What am I supposed to do to get back in his favour if he doesn't tell me what he wants?! I'm just sitting here with my thumbs up my ass while he makes me suffer! It's. Not. Fair.' He punctuated his last sentence with hard kicks to the door to his rooms. Used to the abuse, the door mechanisms groaned and jerked open.

Ren stormed in. Hux hung back for a minute, unsure if he should follow.

When sprays of metal splinters and sparks started flying from his room, Hux felt glad he hadn't followed. He backed away slowly, then set off back to his quarters to think and take a breather. The sounds of Ren's angry screams followed him down the hallway.

He poured himself a cup of caf when he got to his room. Sitting at his desk, he held the cup under his chin and breathed in the steam. The warm air relaxed him. He closed his eyes.

All that destruction… Ren's daily path must be littered with debris from his fits of rage. Honestly. When would he learn that the Order did not exist to trail behind him, picking up the pieces in his wake?

It came to Hux in a flash.

No, the Order didn't exist to pick up after Ren. But Hux could create something that _did_.

He fumbled for a blank flimsi and a stub of charcoal, settling for the back of a less-important form he'd yet to fill in. It had to be small enough to escape Ren's notice in his ire, but big enough to hoover up destruction. Not a bright colour, but different enough to stand out against the polished black floors. Maybe a helmet could be repurposed? A piloting one, not 'trooper white. It could be melted a little to make a dome to cover the inner wirings.

The ideas were coming fast to Hux, and he carefully drew out the wiring and components needed for his cleaning droid. He'd programme it himself, of course.

He swept up his datapad and put in the order for all the supplies he'd need.

It took him the better part of three days.

He only reported in to the bridge when absolutely necessary, informing his officers that his datapad was always online but that he had urgent business to sort through.

The droid itself was easy to make. He'd been taking cleaning droids apart and putting them back together all his life. This one he gave little arms, to better link up with the Finalizer's waste disposal system. It was black, with two parallel red stripes across its domed body.

The rest of the time he spent carefully programming it. Most cleaning droids didn't have personality constructs, but Hux wanted to make this one at least a little bit friendly. Maybe if Ren had someone to be friends with – something to talk to – he'd be less destructive all the time. A droid made far less noise and mess than a pet.

It spoke very basic binary, like a young child might, only a few words and phrases at a time. It knew how to clean, and it knew to follow Ren, but other than that it wasn't intelligent. There wasn't much space on its hard drive for databanks and the like, anyway. (Hux made a note to one day try and create a dual-function cleaning and protocol droid. The idea of a protocol droid's fussy personality being spewed out of a droid no bigger than a shoebox was amusing)

He was meticulously cleaning it – wiping the shell down, cleaning stray blobs of solder off its mechanisms, using a tiny brush to dust out the cracks – when he heard someone approach.

'Sir?' A Stormtrooper stood hesitantly at the workshop door. Hux set down the cloth and wiped his brow with his arm.

'Yes, GC-4289?'

'Sir. Kylo Ren is having an…episode in the receiving chamber. I was instructed to inform you immediately.' Irritation twanged through Hux.

'I'm not the only person who can clean up after his messes! Surely there were officers closer to his tantrum?'

'Y-yes, sir. Mitaka, sir. But… when I informed him he went a funny colour and had to sit down.' Oh, yes. Ever since the drama with that scavenger girl, Mitaka had developed a twitch whenever Ren was so much as mentioned. He considered putting in a transfer request for the poor man, getting him an equal role on another ship. He wouldn't normally have put so much care into the lives of a subordinate, but he held respect for Mitaka. It was probably the way he once witnessed him clinically slice his commander's stomach open, neatly hauling himself up the hierarchy. A shame he got so nervous around Ren. Sometimes Hux thought a good old disembowelling would do his co-commander a world of good.

'Hm. Very well then.' Hux swept his jacket on, neatly fastening the hooks and eyes, before brushing his trousers off. He dismissed the 'trooper and made for the receiving chamber.

Ren wasn't there.

Hux tried not to let panic bubble up in his stomach as he considered where Ren could possibly have got to, what he could have damaged. He set off down the corridor, opposite to the way he came.

It was ten long minutes of searching before he saw Ren on one of the gangways over a large drop. He was wrenching at part of the railing, causing the whole thing to rattle alarmingly. A cleaning droid on its way to another part of the ship beeped a warning at him, causing him to swing around and kick it off the gangway. Hux watched it plummet and shatter on impact. Well then. He hadn't spent three days building a droid for it to share the same fate. That idea was off the list.

'Ren!'

He stopped and turned to look at Hux.

'Ren what the _kriffing hell_ do you think you're doing?!' He snarled at Ren.

'He- Snoke told me –'

'I don't care if he told you to dye your hair _pink_! You have no right to destroy my ship!' Hux caught Ren by the wrist and pulled him back down the hallway. The receiving chamber wasn't ideal for private conversations – it always felt awkwardly big – but with Ren in the mood he was in, Hux needed a private area quickly.

'What did Snoke tell you?'

'Well, you know how he's kept postponing our meetings?'

'You might have mentioned it once or twice.' Hux replied drily.

'He finally spoke to me today.'

'And?'

'He said I need to 'prove myself'!' Ren's upper lip curled. 'I have no idea what he means!'

'So you decided to give everybody the chance to fall off a 50-foot high gangway?'

'What?'

'The railings you were trying to destroy.'

'Oh. Whoops.'

Whoops. Fantastic.

Ren continued. 'Prove myself…'

'Aren't you force-types supposed to meditate? Why don't you do that and try and find out what he means?' Ren looked at him, surprised.

'That's not a bad idea.'

'Thank you.' Ren was quiet.

'Hux… I'm sorry about the railing.' Hux raised his eyebrows.

'And the droid?'

'And the droid. Wait. The droid? What droid?'

'That cleaning droid you kicked off the gangway. All costs money, you know.'

'Oh. That. I am sorry. They're just so…kickable.'

'Kickable.'

'Yeah.'

'…okay.'

'Hux?'

'Yes, Ren?'

'Thank you. For Starkiller. Rescuing me, that is.' Oh. He'd not been thanked by Ren before.

'You're welcome.'

'And Hux?'

' _Yes_ , Ren?'

'Can you be honest – how does it look?' Ren turned his face to Hux, displaying the loud and angry scar bisecting his face. Hux paused. It wasn't – It didn't look that bad, really. The red against the rest of his pale skin was bright, and made his dark eyes look wild.

'You look… fearsome.' Hux maintained eye contact, hoping Ren took it as the truth it was.

'Thank you.'

* * *

Kylo Ren: Angry Gremlin who punts small robots and destroys health and safety equipment


	3. Chapter 3

The frantic door pinging came this time as Hux was fastening his jacket. Ren swept in as soon as he opened the door.

'Prove myself! What does he even mean?!' Ugh. He was still fuming from last night. Every muscle in Ren's body was taut, his fists clenched, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Righteous anger suited him. Even behaving like a diva, the way his robes billowed around him and his squarely defined face made him look like a figure from a painting he'd seen once. It had been in a crumbling temple in some unknown-region planet, a fresco announcing the faded glory of a people long gone. Ren could have walked right out of that painting, clutching Snoke's head in one hand and his saber in the other. An avenging angel.

Oblivious to Hux's musings, Ren swept his hand up to point at Hux with a flourish.

'What do _you_ think he means?'

'Of course I don't mind you coming in to my rooms, Ren, how thoughtful of you for asking.' Hux could feel the air charge around him, bands of Force ready to choke. 'Maybe Leader Snoke means for you to act with some common decency. _Not_ destroying my ship every time something goes a little bit wrong. Acting in accordance to guidelines, chain of command, code of conduct. That sort of thing. Though,' Hux made a point of looking Ren up and down, 'That's probably far beyond the Supreme Leader's wildest dreams. Do you even _know_ what the code of conduct is?'

The sudden offcut of air Hux was expecting never came. Instead, Ren seemed to deflate, sinking down onto Hux's desk chair.

'…No. No one ever told me that.'

'I highly doubt that. Were you listening properly?' Ren's hair had fallen into his eyes, so his glare shone out between locks of inky black.

'I did. They just assumed I already knew.'

'But you didn't.' It wasn't a question. Ren nodded, a curt bob of his head that sent his hair swinging about his face again. So distracting, that hair. Hux wondered what Ren would look like with a standard Order haircut. It was harder than he would have thought, picturing Ren with neatly gelled back and parted hair.

The mass of errant curls was a better look, he privately decided.

Ren stood.

'Thank you for your advice, General.' He made to leave, then turned back, resting his hand on Hux's shoulder. It was a heavy, unexpected warmth. Hux suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. 'I… will attempt to follow it.'

He left in a dramatic swirl of robes.

Hux stayed where he stood, mind running a mile a minute. Had Ren actually _listened_ to what he said for once? It was a miracle. But how would Ren do it? If he'd never been taught those things in the first place it would be difficult to do so now, especially since most tutorial books from the Order presumed a certain level of understanding. Hux could only recall one book that laid it out from the start that he had used – an old Imperial book, gifted by his mother only a few short months before the siege and the destruction of the only life he'd ever known.

He'd already been reading by four, but he used that book to force up his reading age to double his real one. He read it over and over again, until he was word-perfect. If only he was still word-perfect now, Hux thought. Then he could share that important information with Ren to help him.

There was a fine gift idea, though.

He snatched up his datapad, pulling open his contacts and scrolling through them to find his father's comm number. He dialled.

'Hello?' His father's voice had gotten raspier and reedier with age. It was no less acidic, though, when directed at him.

'Father. There is an urgent matter I need to speak to you about.'

'Armitage! It's been far too long since you last called. Don't think just because I'm not on the same ship as you any more that you can be lazy and waste the time and effort I put into dragging you up correctly.'

'No, Father. Sorry, Father. Now, I-'

'And don't think I didn't see that Dedication Day card you sent me! It stank of last-minute ill preparation. See that you correct this sloppiness in your scheduling.'

'Yes, Father. Do you still have my copy of 'The Imperial Handbook'?' Hux forced it out in a rush before Brendol could carry on pointing out his flaws for the next hour and a half.

'What?'

''The Imperial Handbook'. That book you gave me when I started at the Academy? The one with the command and decorum walkthroughs. It was black, hard cover, I think it was quite large…'

'One of your old things?'

'Yes, Father. One of my old books. I've some… officers who need better training in certain areas and that book had the best instructions.'

'If it was in your box of old things it must have been incinerated –oh, years ago now. You can't honestly expect me to keep all your useless clutter.' Hux's heart sank. He suddenly couldn't speak around the lump in his throat. 'And if you've officers deficient in training then you should scrap them, rather than all this scavenging nonsense.' Brendol Hux sniffed derisively.

'Okay, Father. I'll… keep that in mind.' Hux closed the call. Kriff it all.

He turned to his old friend, the First Order stock system. It was unlikely to the point of impossibility that there would be a copy on the Finalizer, but maybe there was one floating around in another Star Destroyer that Hux could trade for a favour or a promotion in the future.

No. Nothing. It would be too easy.

Hux didn't abandon his datapad yet, instead sending a call to Phasma.

'Captain? I need help with a matter.' Phasma's cool voice replied almost immediately.

'Yes, sir?'

'Have you heard of a book called 'The Imperial Handbook'? I'm trying to track down a copy and haven't had any luck so far.' There was a pause as Phasma thought.

'I can't say that I have heard of that book, sir. Is there a reason you need it? Surely you don't need guidance on how to act properly.'

'I may not, but Kylo Ren apparently does.'

'Trying to set him on the right track? Good luck.' She was obviously trying to hide her laughter.

'You're sure you haven't heard of it?'

'Certain, sir.'

'Thank you for giving me some of your time, anyway.' He went to close the call.

'Sir!'

'Yes, captain?'

'There is a reload docking scheduled for 1400 hours today, sir. Usually ports like those have little markets and shops. You might find your book there.'

'Thanks, Phasma.'

'Oh, and sir?'

'Yes?'

'If you find any of the Trills and Kloon books, can you bring them back for me? The ones with the blue spines.'

'…of course.' The call ended with a click. Trills and Kloon? Hux had never heard of them, though his limited exposure to fiction and little time for non-educational reading made that not unusual.

The spaceport was bustling, and grimy. Away from the main storage warehouses were warrens of market stalls and ramshackle shops. They were a prime target ground for scammers, spies, and pickpockets. Hux had civilian clothes on, and a woollen hat to cover his distinctive hair. No point causing a furore with the Resistance over a present for General Organa's son. Hux couldn't think of a worse way to end up in the history books.

He walked attentively through the crowded stalls, one hand protecting the fastening of his bag and the other ready to draw his concealed blaster. He'd swapped his normal gloves for fingerless ones, so he could actually use his fingerprint-locked blaster should the need arise.

There seemed to be anything and everything available on the groaning stalls. Here he saw essential droid parts, there he saw fruit from near every planet in the galaxy. There was a stand claiming to sell precious artefacts from legendary heroes – he stopped to check if they were selling anything as Vader's. They weren't, and the kyber crystal they claimed had been rescued from a martyred Guardian of the Whills' quarterstaff was so laughably quartz he almost felt like ripping their claims to shreds on the spot. Unfortunately, that would have caused a scene. He couldn't afford that, not without his book in hand. He moved on.

Two of the more general 'junk' stalls had a small selection of books, but neither had 'The Imperial Handbook'.

There.

In a dark corner of the marketplace, a stand piled high with books.

He approached it. There were stacks of Phasma's 'Trills and Kloon' pulp novels, thick engineering manuals, a pile almost as tall as Hux of various gritty detective books, and, right at the bottom of a pile, a little dusty and worn around the edges, sat a copy of 'The Imperial Handbook'. Hux felt a little bit like doing a victory dance, though he didn't. Obviously. That would have been silly.

He picked up the book – and a handful of the 'Trills and Kloon' ones – and approached the vendor.

'How much?'

The vendor was a bushy little creature, with an upturned nose and massive eyes.

'Don't take credits.'

'What do you take?' The vendor broke into a smile, revealing several rows of sharp teeth.

'Those boots would do nicely, First Order Officer.' Kark. Of course he'd forgotten to trade out his boots. But he did need that book…

'Deal.' He stood on the back of one, pulling it off quickly, then did the same for the other, shuddering inwardly at putting his foot on the filthy floor with only socks.

The vendor took the boots triumphantly, leering at Hux. He was suddenly glad his boots were the same as any other officer's, with no display of rank.

'Deal.'

Hux scooped the books up and hurried away, only removing his hat once he got close to the smaller drop ship. The 'troopers guarding the gangway looked bemused at his lack of footwear.

'Not a word.' They snapped back to attention.

Back in his quarters, Hux peeled off his ruined socks and flung them into the waste chute. Snapping his datapad on, he ordered a new pair of boots before flinging it aside and pulling out his finds.

 _Finally_. Hux flipped through the book. The pages were a thick flimsi that made a pleasant creaking sound to turn. It didn't have the same smell as his copy – instead of cigar smoke and fragrant wood, it smelt of sand and sweet spice. Now. It was right at the back that the really useful part of the book lay – all the other parts could be found in any old command manual, but the Imperial Handbook's flowcharts were unparalleled in their easiness to follow. _That_ was what would be useful for Ren.

The pages of the book flipped neatly as he neared the back of the book, then suddenly skipped to a spread far easier to open than any other. There was- he could see a chunk of the binding, A gap between the tight pages. Parts missing? He flipped back to the index and checked the page numbers he wanted.  
He flipped back to the missing pages.

He double checked.

He triple checked.

Kriff it all.

Of course, _of course_! Nothing could ever be easy, could it?! Hux pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and let out a hysterical laugh.

Of course the only pages he needed were the ones missing!

This time there was only one ping at the door. Hux hurriedly stowed the – useless – book in his wardrobe. The cleaning droid briefly woke from sleep mode to give a friendly chirrup, then powered back down.

Phasma stood at his door, tall and gleaming in her chrome armour.

'Sir. I'm here to inform you that at 0900 hours tomorrow you and Kylo Ren have been ordered to shuttle down to Hesperidium. The Supreme Leader wishes for you to collect information regarding the regrouping efforts of the New Republic. Civilian clothes and discretion are strongly advised. The shuttle leaves from Hangar 6.'

'Thank you, Phasma. Here're those books you wanted.' He held them out.

'Thank you, sir.'

'Phasma?'

'Yes, sir?'

'What are those books?' Phasma laughed shortly.

'I'll lend them to you some time, sir.'

Ever efficient, Phasma nodded her respect, then turned to carry on her patrols.

Hesperidium, huh? A resort moon. The idea of luxury sat uncomfortably with Hux, having been brought up on the scraps of the Empire. The whole concept of resorts represented everything he had hated about the New Republic – the livelihoods of the common people trampled over in favour of the hedonistic whims of the privileged. He was sure the Empire would never have stood for such nonsense.

Hux rummaged around in the back of his closet until he found his last few civilian clothes. He really couldn't wear the same clothes two days in a row. A simple black turtleneck and some plain beige trousers would be fine for this. They were similar enough to his uniform to feel comfortable, though not so similar to be suspicious. The real annoyance would come from having his hair in his eyes all the damn time. He hoped it would be enough to keep prying eyes away, He could just about get away with a turtleneck on Hesperidium, but a hat would certainly be too hot.

Though an annoyance to prepare for a mission with such short notice, Hux was almost looking forward to hearing Ren's undoubtedly loud opinion on the Supreme Leader's decision.

* * *

Oh man don't you just love getting feedback on your stories?


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for no update yesterday! The excitement of a pub seminar must've gotten away from me u.u;

* * *

'Why have we been chosen for this? Surely we're a bit… I dunno, recognisable? It would have been more sensible to get someone a bit more obscure, right? And what does Snoke think he's playing at, sending _me_ on one of these useless recon missions when I have far more important things to do…'

Hux rolled his eyes and tried to tune out Kylo Ren's incessant chatter. He'd started from the moment Hux arrived in the hangar and hadn't stopped since. He'd had no new information either, leaving Hux trapped for hours with an idiot who kept reaffirming the same kriffing points over and over and over again. Needless to say, Hux wasn't having many warm thoughts about Ren.

The bright moon that was Hesperidium was slowly coming into view. There was a buzz of shuttles around it, holidaymakers coming and going even though a war was going on. Hux rolled his eyes harder. What a disgusting waste of resources.

'You sure do roll your eyes a lot.' Ren was looking at him intently, expecting an answer though he hadn't asked a question.

'I have a lot to roll my eyes at.' Hux turned back to the viewport.

A crackle of static erupted from the comm, and Ren spun his chair back round to respond to the landing crew.

Hesperidium was… odd. As a moon of Coruscant, it was predictably bustling, but the attitudes of the crowds seemed only to exist at the extremes of mourning and partying. Clusters of families sombrely holding photos of missing loved ones brushed shoulder to shoulder with wealthy young heirs drinking their inheritance away. Hux was infinitely glad both he and Ren were in civilian clothes. He'd seen an older lady all in white claw at the eyes of a uniformed Order officer in one street, screaming profanities and sobbing for her obliterated child. In another street, he'd seen an officer trying to support a swaying teenager as she vomited on his boots, having been left in the gutter by her partying friends. It was an overwhelming experience. Hux shadowed Ren's every move, not wanting to be separated in the grotesque crowd.

The day was long and the sun was hot. The artificial gravity on Hesperidium was set to a different level to that on the Finalizer, making every step difficult and dizzying.

There was precious little to find out. No one knew much about the Resistance, except for one or two warbling youths who chattered at length about how beautiful Poe Dameron was, _look at this picture, dude, isn't he dreamy?_ Ren's fists had clenched, and Hux had dragged him away before he could Force choke the starry eyed young men. While many families had lost someone to the destruction of the Hosnian System, the only things that seemed to be happening was either partying to forget, or trawling the galaxy in the hopes that their loved ones were off-planet. No organised action or trouble seemed to be brewing from any quarter other than the Resistance itself. Those bastards.

The only other interesting information came at a drinks stand they stopped at. The bartender was full of useless trivia about Hesperidium, and was happy to share it – actually, from what Hux could tell, the price of a drink went a way to shut him up rather than loosen his tongue.

'You know, this was once the Emperor's private resort. I knows this because I worked here then as well. Only ever saw the Emperor from a distance, but I'd recognise them red guards what he had anywhere.' The man nodded to himself. 'Only for the elite, this was, back then. Now's a lot cheaper for common folks to visit. Take their minds off whatever's going on back home.'

Hux had downed his drink in one go and left. So much for the Emperor vilifying decadence such as this, then.

They ended up slumped on a bench.

'I saw a sign for volcanic springs a way back. I want to try them.' Ren blurted, raising his head to look at Hux.

'Go on, then. No one's stopping you.' Hux re-crossed his legs and shifted. The bench was hard. Evidently the lap of luxury had to stop somewhere. Hux absently wished the corrupt powers that be had spent a little less on the gilt facades and a little more on some cushioned seats.

'Will you come with me?' Ren looked pleading. 'Please?' Hux paused. He supposed it would be interesting to experience a hot spring. It might be relaxing enough to help him think of a decent present for Ren, anyway.

'Fine.'

The springs were expensive. Hux hadn't brought many Republic credits with him anyway, and this nearly wiped him clean out. That said, they got what they paid for.

When Hux inquired after bathing suits, the manager laughed, slapped his back, and explained that the towels they were given were to preserve their modesty getting in and out of the water.

Hux sighed. How embarrassing.

At least the changing rooms weren't communal. He quickly undressed, wrapped the towel around himself, and sped out to the pools.

They were deserted. The pools themselves were surrounded by dark rock that had a shelf cut to sit on. Steam slowly billowed out of the water, and Hux quickly – but carefully – stepped in. The warm water worked at his tense muscles, unknotting the tightness in his spine until he felt almost boneless in the water. He could sleep like this.

'Nice temperature?' Ren's voice cut through his reverie. Hux opened his eyes. There he was, towel barely covering him, standing squarely at the edge of the pool. Hux tried to keep his gaze at Ren's face, and not at his well-built abs and the sharp jut of his hips leading down… um. Yes. His face. Looking at that. Mhm.

Ren let the towel drop (Hux's eyes flickered between where they were meant to be averted to and where they wanted to look) and jumped in with a splash.

'Ow!' He'd grazed his knees on the floor of the pool.

'It's not that deep, Ren. Didn't you see all the signs that told you not to do that?' It was Ren's turn to roll his eyes. He limped-swam over to the side and sat on the rock-bench near Hux.

'I've been meaning to ask you. Why do you call me 'Ren'?' Ren's steam-wavy hair bobbed as he tilted his head.

'It's your name, isn't it?'

'Not really.' What? What did he mean, 'not really'? 'It's a title. I'm one of the Knights of Ren. We're all called Ren. 'Kylo' is my name.'

'Oh.' Hux felt a little put out. Why had no one told him?

'Most people on the Finalizer do that, actually. Did the Supreme Leader not explain it?'

'No, he didn't.'

Ren- Kylo – was quiet for a second.

'Right. Okay. Well. Now you know.' Kylo smiled awkwardly.

'It's going to take some getting used to… Kylo.' Hux tried to smile back, probably just as awkwardly.

They sat in silence for a long time, shifting in the water and nudging the other when their eyelids drooped too low.

'We should probably head back at some point.' Hux reluctantly pointed out. 'We do have a ship we need to get back to.'

'True.' Kylo stretched and stood up, wading across the pool for his towel. Hux tried to keep his eyes averted from the other man's glorious ass. 'Are you coming or not?' Kylo threw back over his shoulder.

'Oh- yes.' Hux hurriedly swiped his towel and clambered out of the pool. As he walked to the changing rooms with Kylo he noticed his cheeks were flushed and he kept staring at Hux. Was he too warm? Had he caught Hux eyeing him? Hux tried to put it from his mind as he redressed.

At the desk the manager had disappeared. Hux rang the bell and stepped back to wait. The warm pool had livened Kylo's normally sallow complexion, and his damp hair was redrying to a wilder curl than usual. He looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. He looked perfect.

The click of a blaster cocking rudely interrupted Hux's thoughts.

'Did you think I wouldn't recognise the faces of the First Order?' The manager snarled. 'The authorities are on their way. You'll be outnumbered. Best to surrender now.'

Honestly. Who did the man think he was to a Force user. To be frank, Hux could have taken him – and the impending useless goons – on his own, but the way Kylo could choke people without touching them and stop blaster bolts did make fights go a lot faster.

The strangled noises of the manager's windpipe being crushed didn't cut out before a shot rang out. Hux ducked, the bolt smashing into the wall and burning it nastily. The now-useless blaster dropped from the manager's now-useless fingers. As the door slammed open to reveal tens of armed Resistance soldiers, Hux snatched the blaster and stowed himself under the desk.

There, he watched as Kylo bowled the soldiers over like pins at a bowling alley. He carefully picked off stragglers with neat headshots, piling up the bodies between them until none were left.

'Well. Now we really do have to leave quickly.' Hux rolled out from under the desk. Ooh, there was a selection of relaxation products for sale. While Kylo was choking the last soldier, Hux swept a few of them into his bag. Seeing how calm and healthy Kylo looked after the springs made Hux want to see it again.

'Got everything, Kylo?' The man turned, and pulled Hux into a hug.

'You're alright.'

'Of course I'm alright, I'm a General of the First Order.' He felt Kylo nod against his shoulder. He smelt of fresh soap and saltwater, with a hint of _him_ underneath – a musky, dark scent that drew Hux in. He felt a bizarre urge to bury his head in Kylo's neck. His arms were so strong around him, and pressed against him like this he could feel Kylo's wild pulse slowly return to a calm rate.

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

He felt Kylo hum through the buzz in his chest.

'Do you like this kind of relaxation stuff?' Kylo tilted forward for a second, and one of his arms unwrapped from Hux to show him a bottle off the desk.

'Uh! Um. Not really? No, not at all.' Smooth. Hux was sure Kylo didn't suspect anything weird about him at all. Obviously. 'Do-er-do you?' Kylo seemed to have deflated a little. His shoulders were slumped more.

'No… no, I don't like this kind of stuff either.'

Force _damn_ it.

* * *

I'm really excited because I'm finally getting sorted to write a longfic I've had in the works since September but couldn't embark on before, because I needed the new information from Empire's End to actually plan it! It's a 'for want of a nail' type fic where the small change is that Armitage got stranded on Jakku and grew up as a scavenger. Watch this space! (very patiently. this here 18k fic you're reading right now took _months_ because I kept drawing out really detailed plans for it)


	5. Chapter 5

Halfway there!

* * *

Ren – Kylo – had left to report his collected information to Snoke. Though he was absent, Hux felt his presence stronger than ever. How had it happened that now he _missed_ his co-commanders oppressive aura on the bridge with him?

Well.

He knew how it had happened.

Damn Kylo and his bleeding heart and his stupid arms and his comforting scent and _argh_ now he was thinking too much again.

He checked his datapad instead of thinking any more. There were the usual list of minor grievances and issues brought to his attention, and one message highlighted as urgent. It informed him that technicians had found multiple blockages in the ventilation shafts around the Finalizer, and were concerned about what they meant – if some spy had been illicitly living in the vents, or even worse, if a saboteur had planted bombs in there. In only slightly less alarming terms, the note went on, if the blockages were large the airflow to the ship could be compromised.

'Unamo.' She looked up from her screen, halfway across the room from Hux. 'With me.' Unamo was efficient, pragmatic, and had a base in engineering. He'd only crossed paths with her a few times at the Order Research and Development facility, but she'd struck him with her bright mind and willingness to get the job done. When a chance had come up to transfer her onto the Finalizer, he'd seized it with both hands.

As they walked to the main technician's hub, Hux filled Unamo in on the message he'd received.

'Hmm,' Unamo's brows furrowed. 'If they're explosives it won't do to just go up there and have a rummage around. We'll need to locate all of them first, isolate one furthest away from vital systems-'

'-clear the area then have a look?'

'Exactly.' Hux rarely smiled at his subordinates, but he and Unamo shared a quick grin.

The technician's hub was a bubble of chaos in the usually calm and ordered Finalizer. Every surface was cluttered with tools, the floor so scattered with wire offcuts Hux could barely see the black tile beneath. Technicians perched haphazardly on the backs of chairs, trying not to wake those asleep on the seats proper. As they entered they were approached by an exhausted looking technician. Xer hair was escaping from the small bun it had been hurriedly tied up in, brown wisps sticking at odd angles by xer ears.

'General Hux, sir, I'm so glad you're here! We've been trying to work out where they all are and what to do with them but there's just no good place to start!' Xe gestured to a small gaggle of people sitting round several beeping devices. 'These radars are catching the blockages but we really need someone to walk around the whole ship to find them all! The whole ship!' Xe seemed close to tears. 'How can we manage that before something _happens?!_ '

'Uh…' The technician's hysteria had left him floundering for words.

'Calm down. The General and I have discussed an appropriate course of action. With his permission, of course, I suggest we give some of these radars to the squadrons on guard duty this shift, with orders to pass them on to those patrolling the next shift. One for Captain Phasma would also be a good idea, heavens know how she gets round the whole ship daily.' Unamo glanced at Hux.

'I agree.' Hux nodded to the devices. 'Take a break, technician. The walk up to Phasma's route will do you good.' He'd known xer brand of panic intimately, in his days working out the theoretics of Starkiller. A walk to clear your head took you away from your stagnant ideas and let you look at them afresh when you returned.

The technician nodded, scooped up the devices, and hurried away.

'So what do you think is the most likely cause of these blockages, General?' Unamo had her eyes raised to the ceiling, where a vent shaft followed the hallway.

'I'm trying to be optimistic. Maybe an animal or something has made nests up there.'

'Is that realistic at all? How would an animal have gotten onto the Finalizer in the first place?'

'If there's an animal on board it was probably Kylo – Ren – who brought it here. Maybe he wanted a pet.'

Unamo laughed.

'That sounds like something he'd do.' She paused, then continued. 'You've been spending a lot more time around him recently. Has he become less obnoxious?' Hux shrugged.

'I don't know about that, but he's determined to talk to me. Might as well save everybody else the aggravation.'

'How selfless of you.' Unamo's eyes sharpened. 'Or is it?'

'What do you mean-'

'-Oh dear! Would you look at the time. I have a meeting on deck four in three minutes. My apologies, General, but we shall have to cut this chat short.'

Hux was left staring after the quickly retreating figure of Unamo.

He'd spent the rest of his shift feeling the sting of self-consciousness. Every eye on him felt judging, probing. Every word spoken to him took on the tone of 'We know! We know!'.

When he finally clocked out and got to his rooms, he slumped over onto his bed. He should stop this before it started. Kylo was- he was far too dangerous for Hux to get involved with.

It wasn't _fair_. How dare Kylo have such a draw to him. How dare he grin in that surprisingly boyish way that lit up his whole face and made Hux's legs go weak. Hux buried his head in his pillow, took a deep breath, then sat up.

He knew he probably shouldn't do it, but he had to.

He pulled one of the books from his small shelf. It was inconspicuous, a large, squat volume with a faded grey spine that sat in the middle of a collection of other identical books. Inside, hidden within a compartment cut into the pages, sat a small wooden box, its lid inlaid with driftwood and mother-of-pearl from the shores of Arkanis. It was a gift from his mother, an Arkanian tradition kept secret even from his father. He'd no idea how it had survived this long with him without ever being found, but he was grateful.  
Inside the box lay seven small pots of dye, a bottle of fixative, two silver clasps, a packet of metal spangles, and a length of crinkly material. Originally, there had also been a letter as well, but Hux had kept that around his neck in a canister from the day he'd found it. His mother's neat handwriting, faded with age, was ingrained in his mind. Sometimes he found himself copying it, trying out the small loops of nerns and the peculiar curve she always gave her peths.  
The note explained the tradition on Arkanis of making a wrist ornament for one's significant other. One filled a basin with water, then sprinkled the chosen dyes into it. The dye floated near the top of the water like a thick film, which could be swirled to create colourful patterns and gradients. Dipping the fabric into it would transfer the dye. Once it had dried, saturating the natural cloth with the traditional fixative would lock the colour in for far longer than a human lifespan.

There was only enough for one bracelet.

One try.

One partner.

Should he do this?

An image came to his mind, of Kylo with a light blue and teal band wrapped securely around his wrist, a pop of colour against the oppressive black and violent red.

He picked up the blue and green dyes.

While the cloth was drying, Hux let his fingers drift through the metal spangles. When he'd been younger, he'd imagined his – faceless, sexless – partner to have a band sparkling with the tiny rings. It didn't suit Kylo.

One of the discs wasn't as shiny as the others, a dull and weathered gap amongst the bright reflections. He picked it up and set it with the fastenings.

The fixative smelt strong and briny. It was familiar yet unfamiliar, a scent he'd never smelt before himself yet was in his blood. It was odd, how chemical smells were often the most comforting. The tang of gasoline from a speeder. The burning smell of cleaning fluid obliterating the dirt.

Hux almost found himself leaning in to inhale the fumes from the dregs left in the tiny bottle, but stopped himself. Probably a bad idea.

He busied himself with yet more paperwork as the fixative did its work. It was near his sleep time when the timer he'd set finally rang out.

The cloth had gone a pale, clear blue, tingeing to green at either end. It was beautiful, and delicate, and vibrant. The colours of life. It was perfect.

Hux's hands fumbled with attaching the clasps. All his life he'd developed a steady hand for working with machines, but the exhilaration and audacity building in the back of his mind messed with his concentration. It took him five times before he was happy with the result.

It looked like nothing. A strip of fabric with two lumps of metal on either end, an old-looking piece of metal strung on it.

It meant so much to him.

He stowed it back in the box, then gently placed the box in his wardrobe with everything else Kylo would never see.


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies for late update! I've been under the weather the past few days which culminated in my passing out twice yesterday :/

* * *

Kylo was still away from the Finalizer. Just as every other time he'd gone to Snoke, he sent no correspondence, but this time it sat less comfortably with Hux. Along the way he'd somehow gotten used to the sly comments and furious rants that Kylo brought. The sudden loss of their banter left a hole in Hux's chest. He had no idea how he'd handle any interaction after… after what he'd finally admitted to himself, but he longed for it. In idle moments he found himself fantasising about a message from Kylo arriving. Those idle moments were usually followed by him whacking himself on the forehead with his datapad to shake such ridiculous thoughts from his mind. It earned him many worried glances after he did it on the bridge.

A glint of chrome from the corridor outside the bridge caught his eye.

'Captain Phasma!' Hux called, setting down his datapad. She dismissed her 'troopers and walked over.

'Sir.'

'Have you completed your patrols with the radar?' The sooner this situation with the vents could be sorted, the better.

'Yes, sir. I've just finished my last length. I marked all the locations down as ordered.'

'Very good. Deliver those to the technicians as soon as possible.' She nodded, and turned to go. Hux thought for a second. 'Captain? May I ask you a more personal question?'

'Of course, sir.'

'If you were buying a gift for someone you…respected, what would you get them? Hypothetically, of course.'

'Hypothetically, sir?' Damn her. He could almost see the raised eyebrows under that chrome bucket. 'Hypothetically, I would get them a weapon. The greatest gift is personal safety.' A weapon, huh? That, Hux could do.

'My thanks, Captain Phasma.' He turned back to his datapad.

Putting the order in for a blaster and holster for Ren was simple. The armourer owed him some favours from the last time Hux put a hand in with weapons design, so he was put to the front of the queue. He was glad it was easy for once. This whole mess with the potential saboteur was eating up his time like nothing else.

'So we've located all the blockages now!' The enthusiastic technician had xer hair tied back more successfully today, though Hux doubted it would remain that way. 'We've also had a chance to scan one of the blockages – it seems to be a mixture of materials that includes metal and chemical compounds, so that doesn't rule out much!' Xe circled one of the handful of red dots marked on a map of the ventilation shafts. 'This is the blockage we're going to investigate. It's the furthest from any vital system and also any living blocks. We've already established a shield around it to prevent damage and will remotely control a droid to detach the vent space and bring it to ground level so we can see what it is.'

The technician cheerfully looked around the assembled technicians – and Hux – before continuing. 'It's on this deck, so it won't take long to get there!'

The room cleared out gradually. Hux hung back to speak to the technician.

'I will be overseeing this procedure, Technician…'

'Oh! It's Ash. Technician Ash.'

'Well, Technician Ash, I must commend you on your forward thinking and organisational skills. The stakes with this sort of work can end up very high. To sort everything out so efficiently is impressive.' He continued to talk as they walked.

Xe blushed.

'It's just my job…'

'And you do it very well. This could put you in line for a promotion, you understand.'

They walked the rest of the way in amiable silence.

The shielding had been placed a fair distance away from the blockage. Hux almost had to squint to see the spidery-looking droid scuttle up through the ceiling and into the vents.

Minutes later, three vent plates clanged to the floor, spilling a clutter of materials all over the place. Tiny metal tools rolled into the divots between floor panels, and bottles of paint spun in circles before coming to a rest. It was all-

'Craft supplies?!' Hux breathed.

'Hey- hey! What are you doing?' Kylo interrupted their shared moment of pure bewilderment. 'What are you doing with my stuff?'

'I should have guessed it would be yours. Have you been storing things in the vents?' Hux sighed, patting Kylo's shoulder dryly.

'It wasn't going to be for long! I was going to move them before I went to see Snoke, but I ran out of time.' Kylo grimaced. 'I'll move them now.'

'And- what were you doing with craft stuff anyway?' Hux shook his head in exasperation. Kylo blushed.

'Erm. Nothing very interesting, I can tell you. Definitely not worth asking about! Um- excuse me, I need this shield down now.' He lost the imposing edge with subordinates when flustered, Hux noted. Why he was flustered was a mystery known only to Kylo himself. Probably best not to pry.

Ash hit a button on the shield generator, dispersing it into a spray of blue hexagons. Kylo hurried forward and scooped up the pile of items, shoving them into a fold in his scarf. He'd missed a few of the little tools stuck in the cracks.

Hux stepped over to pick them up, prising them out with his nails where they'd become wedged.

'Here.' Kylo added them to the collection in his scarf.

'Will you walk with me?' Kylo tilted his head at Hux. Hux sighed.

'Fine.'

They'd only been walking for a minute or so before hurried footsteps pounded towards them.

'General Hux! General Hux! I've been looking for you all over!' It was the armourer. Obviously. Because nothing in Hux's life ever worked out as it should.

Kylo looked curious.

The armourer handed him the blaster, already snug in its holster.

'There, sir! Exactly as you specified.'

Hux took a deep breath, and sighed. The armourer _had_ done exactly as Hux ordered. He'd even rushed to deliver it to Hux himself. It wasn't his fault that Kylo needed a personal escort at all hours of the day.

'My thanks.' Hux drew the blaster out of the holster. It was stunning work. The armourer bobbed his head and hurried away.

'That yours, Hux?' Kylo asked. 'It's very nice. Can't stand blasters myself, though. So… barbaric.' With every word Hux felt more and more like trying out said beautiful blaster on himself. Would anything be right?

'Um. Yes. It's mine. Thought it was high time I got a new one.' He pretended to test the weight in his hand. 'Should be quite useful.'

'High time you got a new one? I've seen you fire a blaster all of once, and that one wasn't even yours. Surely you haven't worn yours out already.'

'No. This one's for…' Er. What was it for? He really _didn't_ need a new blaster. '…special occasions.' Fantastic.

It was a beautiful blaster. Not standard issue - a far more powerful design. Hux's own, naturally. The grip was inlaid with black wood, polished to a high gleam, and the barrel glinted a warm gold under the fluorescent lights. It would have made a lovely gift.

Hux sighed.  
Into the wardrobe it went, carefully slung amongst Hux's other failures.


	7. Chapter 7

Fieldwork is slowly killing me so here have some more of this fucking story [AMAZING X2 UPDATE COMBO!1!]

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Hux wondered what it would feel like to wake up normally. To, say, an alarm, or to the sunrise, or just when his body wanted to wake up. That would be nice.

 _Unfortunately_ , he wasn't living that dream. No, instead he was woken by blaring sirens, his heart pounding in his throat, blindly scrambling for clothes and an explanation of what the fuck was going on.

He was sure his flies were undone, he knew his hair was a mess, he could feel the cold air on his stomach where he'd messed up the fastenings on his jacket, but continuing to live took priority over decorum. He shoved through the mad rush of bodies in the halls, making their way to their different emergency assembly points throughout the ship.  
He caught the arm of a flustered-looking technician as he walked.

'Any idea what's going on?'

'We're – we're getting strange readouts from Vital Hub 4. If someone's tampered with the machines we need to fix it soon.' She scratched at her short, unbrushed hair. 'Sir. Sorry.'

'Get a team ready to fix it ASAP. Join me there when you're ready.' He turned to find the nearest emergency staircase.

'Sir! You're not going to go in there, are you? What if it's Kylo Ren?'

'Someone needs to keep him in line.'

Vital Hub 4 was alight in a spray of sparks and metal fragments. Without his lightsaber, Kylo had simply used the Force to destroy some of the key life support machines keeping the Finalizer habitable. Hux stood in the doorway, trying not to flinch at the white-hot sparks grazing his skin every now and then.

'Kylo!' He called, putting as much strength into his voice as possible. He made it a point not to be scared of Kylo Ren, but when he was screaming like this, whaling on solid metal with only the brute natural Force and his own two hands, it was impossible not to be at least a little wary.

'What?!' Kylo's voice was hoarse, raw, and squeaky. He'd stopped destroying the machinery, but his whole body still trembled with power.

'Do you have _any idea_ what machines those are? Those power the atmo, you _moron_! You'll kill us all!' Hux clung to the doorframe, watching the essential engines spark and fizz.

Kylo had dropped his head, his body a tense line, his face still drawn in anger. He seemed to waver for a second, before his lip curled into a snarl-

' _FINE_! You can all die then! I don't care about you- I don't care about _any of you_! Why can't you just leave me alone!' He turned to face Hux full on, eyes narrowed to slits, face flushed with fury, angry tears glinting in the sparking technology. 'I _HATE_ YOU!' He spat the words and flung out his hands, slamming Hux into the wall of the corridor behind him. Hux felt his head slam back, filling his vision with white for a second and filling his ears with a high-pitched whine. He thought he cried out, though he couldn't be sure.

Through the instant haze of pain he saw a group of people stumble round the corner, all murmuring in shock at the scene in front of them. He saw Kylo, shoulders suddenly slumped, still with his arms outstretched, wide-eyed with horror.

'Hux…' Kylo's voice was more of a breathless whisper. His legs didn't seem to be able to support him as he stumbled forward to crowd Hux in. 'Hux… I'm so sor-'

'Get off me.' Cold fury filled Hux's bones, shoving Kylo away.

'Hux – please- '

' _I said get off me_ , Ren.' Hux pushed himself up and started to walk away, only addressing the assembled technicians. 'Fix this. The faster you get it done the faster you can return to your sleep cycle.' He stalked off, trying not to wobble in front of anyone. He'd report to the medbay then return to his quarters. He had work to do next shift.

Before he went back to sleep, he opened his wardrobe and looked at the clutter of gifts for Kylo – no, for Ren. Why had he spent so much time and effort finding something nice for Ren when he'd made his feelings so clear?

He picked up his datapad and ordered a box of socks. There. Simple and appropriate. Sorted.

In bed, he scrunched his eyes tight and tried not to feel anything about his _stupid_ co-commander.

Ren was waiting outside his door when he left the next morning. Hux tried to brush past him without saying anything.

'Hux, _please_ let me talk to you, I didn't mean-'

'You made your meaning quite clear, Ren. Some of us have jobs to do. Step out of my way.' Hux squeezed past Ren's blockage of the corridor and continued on his way. Ren trailed behind him, doggedly shadowing his steps.

'But – I didn't mean what I said! Just-listen-'

'I've listened quite enough, thank you.'

'Oh, come on, Hux! I thought we'd worked past this- and now you're calling me 'Ren' again…'

'As you so graciously informed me yesterday, we mean nothing to each other. I see no reason why I should act…familiar… with you, if it's so obvious you don't want it.' They were approaching the bridge, thank everything.

' _Please_!' Hux turned sharply into the doorway. Ren caught his hand.

'Don't touch me.' He snatched his hand out of Ren's way, and stepped up to address his officers. By the time he'd finished, Ren had slunk off again.

It carried on throughout the day. Every time Hux needed to walk anywhere, Ren miraculously appeared to harangue him and cause a scene. It didn't matter where he was going or who he was with, Ren was there to interrupt and spout meaningless drivel at him.

Hux had managed to escape him most times, but late in the shift, when he was walking back to the bridge following an errand, he found himself being yanked into a storage closet.

'Unhand me, you- Ren?!' In the cramped closet, Hux couldn't avoid touching Ren, and trying to turn his face away brushed them cheek to cheek.

'Please, just listen to me, Hux.'

'You think dragging me into a closet with you is the best way to get me to listen to _your side_? You think I'll be in a listening mood after you've spent the whole day distracting and interrupting my work? Let me go.'

'Let _me_ apologise!' Ren's brows were furrowed. 'Look, I know it's not an excuse, but I was in a bad place last night – this morning? – because of what Snoke did. I shouldn't have taken it out on you or the life support stuff. I'm so sorry.' Hux steeled himself to remain unmoved.

'And what exactly did Snoke do to you that was so bad you had to endanger the lives of everyone aboard this ship?'

Kylo bit his lip.

'You know how he said when I came back he'd tell me my next steps?' Hux nodded. 'Last night, while I was meditating, he cut me off from the Force. I couldn't… _feel_ … anything. I- it was,' His lower lip was wobbling, and Hux was struck by how shaken Kylo actually was. 'It was terrifying. I lost it so bad, Hux. When he gave the Force back to me he told me I was pathetic and would never be as strong as Darth Vader. Hux, he sounded just like that scavenger girl. What if he gets rid of me?' Hux found himself dragged into a hug. He could feel Kylo's hot, damp cheek against his own again. A shudder wracked Kylo.  
Suddenly, all the man's weight was on Hux, and they dropped to their knees in the confines of the closet. Relaxing his spine, Hux brought his arms up to Kylo's back and gently rubbed.

'I wouldn't've hurt you otherwise… I'm so sorry… you're…' Kylo's sentence was half-incoherent, mumbled into the stiff cloth of Hux's uniform shoulder. 'I…you'

Hux felt him rub against his shoulder.

'Kylo…'

'Yes?'

'Did you just wipe your nose on my jacket?'

Kylo raised his head to shoot him a damp, apologetic grin. It was still the best damn thing Hux had seen all day.

* * *

In the days after the First Order, all remaining officer jackets will be recycled for handkerchiefs


	8. Chapter 8

Please enjoy this fucking behemoth of a chapter. Please. Enjoy it.

* * *

The light hurt.

Even with his eyes screwed up, the sudden brightness stung and brought an ache to his brow. Someone had flipped the switch in his room. Someone was _in_ his room. He fumbled for his blaster.

'Hux, it's me.' Just as his fingers hit his weapon, Kylo's low register made him relax. Slightly.

'What? Kylo- what are you doing in my room?' Hux tried to prise his eyes open to glare at him. 'Lights to twenty percent.' Aah. That was better. It no longer hurt to think.

'We don't have much time. You can fight, right? I saw you on Hesperidium with that blaster.'

'I can fight. I don't see what that has to do with you waking me in the middle of the night.' With the lights lower it was much easier for Hux to level Kylo with a filthy look.

'I need your help with a mission.' Kylo sighed. 'Look. I've got a situation. Snoke finally gave me some sensible direction but my knights are… otherwise occupied.'

'Your relationship with your Master seems to vacillate by the day.' Kylo rolled his eyes. 'Can't the mission wait until they aren't 'otherwise occupied'? And what does that even mean?'

'I wish it could. Snoke wants me to report back in 12 standard hours – the madman - and they're all throwing up this gross black stuff.' Kylo grimaced. 'Their room smells disgusting.'

Why six-sevenths of one of the Order's most essential taskforces were allowed to share such close quarters – and, evidently, diseases – was something Hux was ready to argue about, but all thought fled from his head as Kylo leant close to him.

'I need someone I trust to have my back in this,' he breathed. 'I need _you_ , Hux.'

Who was he to argue with that? 

It was only when he was sitting in Kylo's yacht that he realised he had no idea what the mission even was. He wove his way through the empty craft to the control panel where Kylo stood, and asked him.

'It's this Sith fortress- real tiny. I think Snoke is the only other living being who knows of its existence. There's an artefact there that Snoke wants.'

'And where is this fortress?' Kylo shot a mischievous grin over his shoulder at Hux.

'You'll like this.'

' _Where_?'

'On an asteroid.' As if he'd timed his words perfectly (and he probably had, the melodramatic bastard) he turned the ship sharply to avoid the first few chunks of rock hurtling towards them as they entered the belt. 'I would sit down if I were you!' 

By the time they'd landed on the tiny asteroid – passing through the ancient-looking false atmo (Hux looked warily at the generator, which was rusted over and creaked alarmingly) – Hux was feeling decidedly nauseous. That feeling only grew when he saw the looming fortress at the edge of the clearing Kylo had parked in. It was completely derelict, dark brown stone crumbling everywhere Hux looked. It didn't look fit for vermin to enter, let alone humans.

'Doesn't look too fun, right?' Kylo exclaimed, alarmingly cheerful. He'd forgone his robes, dressed instead in sensible reinforced trousers and a leather jacket. He had a holdall slung across his chest.

'Is it even safe to enter?'

'I wouldn't say safe, no, but the Emperor apparently used to use it as a kind of storage room. If it's stayed upright for that, I'm sure it'll stay upright for us just going in and coming out again.'

'I've got a bad feeling about this.' Kylo elbowed him gently.

'Don't say that! You sound like my old man used to.'

'Compare me to Han Solo again and it'll be the last thing you do.' Kylo burst into laughter.

'C'mon. Let's go.'

Despite how fragile the building looked, the heavy stone doors looked as impassable as a rock face.  
Kylo held out his hand for a second, and the doors creaked open of their own accord. 'It opens for Force signatures.' Kylo explained, already walking into the darkness beyond the doors. Without stopping, he unzipped his holdall, pulled out two torches, and threw one to Hux. 'You'll need this.'

There was a thick layer of dust and grime on everything the light hit. The silence was unnerving. Every so often, the narrow hallway they walked through would open into a small chamber, in which a small plinth with some ancient relic sat. Some were so covered with dust that they were unrecognisable. They passed what felt like hundreds of the chambers until Kylo finally stopped to look at one.

'Is this what Snoke wanted?' Hux couldn't see much difference between this chamber and any of the others.

'…no.' Kylo looked frustrated. 'Look at the markings on this.' Kylo traced a line in the air near the side of the – amulet? – with his pinky. Hux took a look. This one wasn't quite as dusty as the others, and Hux could quite clearly read the Aurebesh for 'Vader' on it.

'And if that wasn't proof, I can feel his Force on it.' Kylo closed his eyes for a second. 'But Snoke will punish me if I take anything else.' He sounded as sad as he looked.

It felt like another hundred or so loops of chamber to hallway to chamber, until they stepped out into a vast room. The glow of their torches didn't hit the ceiling, even when Hux lifted his above his head. It was oppressively dark, a still and airless blackness barely touched for centuries. Hux curled his arms around himself. It was so cold. Perhaps this was what being lost in space felt like – an endlessly empty void with the promise of nothing but death.

Kylo stepped forward into the room, boots echoing on the stone floor. Hux followed, unwilling to be engulfed in the darkness alone.

It felt like eons before they reached the other side of the room. There was a massive pair of doors set into the wall. A small device sat in the crack between them.

Kylo once again held out his hand to the door. This time Hux imagined he could feel the swell of the Force, the revelation of Kylo's Self.

Nothing happened.

Twitching, Kylo tried again.

Still, nothing.

'It's okay. It's okay. It could have a code. Snoke told me what the code was likely to be.' Kylo fumbled in his layers, pulling out a crumpled piece of flimsi with a heavy scrawl on it. Carefully he entered the code.

Nothing happened.  
Kylo stood still for a long moment, barely moving.

'Try it again, Kylo. I for one know it sometimes takes two or three times for a code to take.' They'd come too far into this derelict ruin for a tantrum now.

Entering the code again did nothing. Entering it a third time got the same result. Kylo kicked at the door, swearing. Hux heard small pebbles on the floor start to rattle on the floor.

'Hang on.' The scraps of an idea were coming to Hux's mind. '-you said the Emperor hid some stuff here?' Kylo whipped back round, his mouth still curled in a snarl.

'Yeah. But what does that have to do with anything, now?! Do you really have to have your Imperial history lessons right now? Force. I'm so screwed.'

'The Emperor was rather egotistical-'

'Do you think I _care_?! Look, we're-we're going to have to go back-'

' _Let me finish_.' Hux's tone was a more acidic one than he'd used with Kylo for- well, for about a day or so. But not for weeks before that. Kylo snapped his jaw shut. 'Don't you think he might have changed the lock himself? Changed that code from data any old fool with a history holo could pick up to something more personal?' Kylo furrowed his brows.

'That's… that's possible. But we're still stuck here unless we can somehow guess what code he changed it to.'

'I suggest we start with dates or ciphers. Maybe try his year of ascension?' Hux was almost certain Palpatine wouldn't have chosen something so simple, but it gave him time to think about a more likely answer.

'Was that the same year as Lord Vader's creation?'

'Yes! How do you not know when the Emperor came to power?'

'You know it, right? It doesn't matter if I do.'

'…anyway, it was… 981.' Hux typed it in as he spoke.

Nothing happened.

'Useless! We're stuck here.'

'Calm down, Kylo. Let me think.' Hux chewed his lip. 'Wasn't there… wasn't there that Sith Legend the Emperor was obsessed with? The one he built a statue of? I saw it once in a painting at the Academy.'

'Darth Plagueis? Yeah, but that's a name. Not a number.'

'It could be a really basic code, Kylo. Aurek is the first letter of Aurebesh, right? So that's 1. Besh is the second. That's 2. And so on.'

Kylo's eyes lit up.

'That could work! So… what would the code be…' The room lapsed back into the silence it had occupied for eons. Kylo thought out loud. 'Sixteen… twelve…one…seven….'

'Twenty-one, five, nine, nineteen.'

'So the code could be 161217215919? Bit of a mouthful to remember…'

'You can't deny that would be the Emperor's style, though.' Hux plugged it in.

There was a click. He tried the door. Ever so slowly, it creaked open.

'You…' Kylo had an odd look on his face. Hux tensed, ready to swerve if the other man swung at him. 'You're amazing.'

Before Hux could stop him, Kylo had swept him up into a bone-crushing hug. They were pressed cheek to cheek, Kylo's hand intimately firm on his lower back.

'Thank you.' Kylo turned his face. Hux could feel the brush of Kylo's lips on his cheek and corner of his mouth as he spoke, breath hot on his skin. The press of Kylo's lightsaber hilt at his waist reminded him they should be focusing on other things, but he couldn't shatter this.

The moment hung in the air, the almost-kiss teetering on the brink of something _more_. Hux could feel the threads of his resolve stretch to breaking. It would be so easy to press himself against Kylo, to ride the waves of his feelings, to go boneless and malleable to his every whim…

Kylo took a long, deep breath. Hux could feel his lungs expand.

'Artefact. Right. Let's. Let's go.' Kylo strode off, his gait tight, leaving Hux to slump against the doorjamb and catch his breath.

What the _karking hell_ had happened to his brain? Whenever Kylo got close he could almost feel his grey matter dribbling out of his ears. 'Ride the waves of his feelings', what utter bantha shite. Hux barely suppressed the urge to ram his head against the stone walls, and hurried after Kylo.

Compared to the previous room, this chamber was tiny. It was still double the size of Hux's quarters – and the other chambers they'd passed through – but at least he could see all four walls and the ceiling.

In the centre of the room sat a nondescript stone plinth, with a rusty-looking gauntlet carefully centred on it. Kylo had cocked his head, curious in the torchlight.

'It's not as impressive as I thought it would be.'

'…No.' What could the Supreme Leader want with _that_?

'Okay, I'll just…' As Kylo pulled the gauntlet from the plinth and stowed it in his satchel, a foreboding rumble echoed around them. 'Uh. That wasn't a good sound.'

The rumble came again. A fine spray of dust and gravel rained down on them. The sound of rock moving and crumbling was unmistakeable now.

Kylo grabbed Hux's hand.

'Run!'

Hux didn't have the chance to protest – either being told to run (no, thanks, Kylo, I'll stay here if that's alright with you, I quite like my showers with a helping of boulders didn't you know) or that Kylo had grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go. The corridors flew by, obliterated to rubble only steps behind them.

Hux recognised the entrance to Vader's amulet room, and without a forward thought he flung his free arm out, catching the amulet off its setting and shoving it into his jacket.

A flash of white hot burning pain, hotter than any he'd ever known, crawled over his arms and legs. Another trap! He opened his mouth to scream, but was silenced as a large rock fell from the ceiling and hit his head.

Everything went black. 

He woke to silence.

The durasteel roof of the shuttle was only dimly lit. He looked over and saw Kylo hunched near him, his face hidden by a curtain of rubble-grey hair.

'You're awake.' Kylo's voice was raspy, parched with dust and salt.

Hux tried to reply, but could only manage a weak croak. The back of his skull was blossoming with pain, but it was the only thing that hurt.

'A rock hit your head. You were knocked out. Something – something cut the atmo off then as well. I only just got us both back on the shuttle.' Kylo picked one of Hux's hands up in both his own. 'I thought you were dead.'

'I'm…not though.' He forced a smile. It twinged to leave Kylo upset.

'No,' Kylo smiled back at him. Hux winced at how red Kylo's eyes were. 'No, you're not.'

Kylo carefully pulled Hux up into a sitting position. It made Hux's head spin, and a fresh burst of warmth spread over the back of his head.

'Oh- your head. It's bleeding again.' Kylo's fingers moved deftly over the bandages. 'I can fix it now you're awake, though. It's always a bit risky to try that while someone's unconscious or asleep.'

Before Hux could ask what he meant by 'fix it' he felt a different kind of heat soothe his head. It felt restorative, easing the pain until it was barely there, until it vanished altogether. Kylo's hands dropped as Hux's raised. There was no injury left on the back of his head. At all.

'You…'

'I, uh. I fixed it.'

Hux hauled himself up to sit by Kylo.

'Thank you.'

Kylo turned to him, his whole body responding and welcoming Hux's presence. Those large (destroying, _healing_ ) hands cupped his cheeks. There was nowhere to escape Kylo's intense gaze, his intense heat. Hux found himself leaning towards Kylo as Kylo was leaning towards him, closer and closer and closer together until-

The comm sputtered.

'Kylo Ren? General Hux? Hangar 3 is open for landing.' Kylo wrenched away reluctantly.

'Received. Landing sequences prepared.' Kylo started collecting his things, checking his satchel for the artefact, tidying away the first aid box.

Hux was breathless.

Before Kylo could disappear off into the Finalizer, Hux called a question to him.

'Kylo?'

'Yes?'

'Why did you bring me? It wasn't like there was anything you needed to fight off. Surely you could have handled it on your own.' Kylo smiled.

'I would have got stuck at that door, though. I'd never have made the connection to the Emperor, let alone Darth Plagueis. And anyway, I didn't know what could have been there. I don't have a weapon at the moment. There's only so many people you can take out with the Force at once, you know. Having a someone handy with a blaster around is useful, barbaric as they are.' Kylo nodded a goodbye, and headed off – presumably to speak with Snoke.

Wait.

No weapon?

But- Hux had sworn he felt Kylo's lightsaber hilt. If it hadn't been a weapon, what had that-

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Hux blushed to himself and had to wait five minutes for it to fade before he could hurry back to his quarters. 

In his room, Hux finally had the chance to pull out the amulet and look at it properly. There it was, still pressed between his jacket and his undershirt.

Neatly snapped into two pieces.

It was a sick sense of dread that overwhelmed him now. His last chance to get something for Kylo. Ruined. Even worse, he'd destroyed something of emotional value to Kylo through his own ignorance. He could feel frustrated tears sting in the corners of his eyes.

When he pulled his jacket off, he nearly shouted out in shock. The burning flash he'd felt when he pulled the amulet off the plinth had left its mark in angry pink whorls looping his limbs. They didn't hurt, but they were slightly raised and deep in the skin. He had a horrible feeling they were permanent. Shocked, he turned from his small mirror and wrapped himself in his duvet. It was barely time for his final meal of the day, but he was exhausted.

Before he let himself sleep, he set an alarm for the middle of the night. He'd have to sneak off to a station nearby to find something – _anything_ – for Kylo.

* * *

Amazingly, trying to reformat this bloody chapter was almost as painful as landscape survey...


	9. Chapter 9

Penultimate chapter, huzzah! Today we had field walking and I burnt the shit out of my nose! I have a convention in two days! Fuck!

* * *

Waking up in the middle of a sleep cycle was, quite frankly, a shit experience. Only through sheer determination could Hux open his eyes at all. 3am was never a glamorous time of day for Hux, sometimes spent staring furiously at a half-finished document while fighting the headache pulsing at his temples. He hauled himself out of bed with a groan and tripped to his bathroom to get ready. He couldn't truly count this as Founder's Day yet, right? He certainly wasn't in a festive mood. Worry curled in his chest – would he be able to find a gift for Kylo now, at such short notice, when all his previous attempts just hadn't been good enough? Would _anything_ be good enough for Kylo?

He dressed quickly, trying to ignore the mirror but still catching a glimpse of the pink swirls marking his skin. They'd faded overnight, taking on a more silvery edge. He'd no idea how he'd explain them in his next physical.  
The hallways of the Finalizer were near empty – though a full shift crew was working, it was both the middle of their ship and technically Founder's Day. Most were either relaxing in their areas or enjoying small, illicit parties while everyone else was asleep. Even the docking bay was only operated by a skeleton crew, and Hux noted they too were relaxing. They were sipping some kind of beige, creamy liqueur out of a mismatch of metal and glass cups, and had strung twists of wire and lights around the hangar, which sparkled as Hux moved.  
The group froze as Hux passed them. He glanced at his datapad. _Damn_. He needed to be gone and back as soon as possible. There was no time to haul them over the coals for slacking off. Hux sighed.

'Make sure those streamers don't become a hazard. I don't want any Resistance scum crowing about us being ill-prepared if our TIEs can't destroy them because they're tangled up in your… decorations.' He immediately continued on towards his private ship. Behind him he could hear their fumbled replies of 'Yes, sir!' and 'Sorry, sir!'. Hux grimaced, glad his face was turned away from them. The primitive decorations were already making him dread the impending Founder's Day party, where some moron was guaranteed to have covered every surface in tinsel. He remembered years where he'd woken up the day after with a splitting headache from the sparkle of the decorations. Of course, those years had often mysteriously coincided with the years he snuck bottles of Corellian brandy back to his room. Funny, that.

The nearest space station was full of people. They were places that never slept, catering to travellers from all over the galaxy with different timezones and sleep patterns. Hux just wished they didn't use so much neon.

Trawling through shops took an age. All they seemed to sell were tacky souvenirs and useless trinkets. They would be an insult to present to Kylo as a gift.

A display of lingerie made him pause. Would they be too intimate a gift? He imagined himself (well, an idealised version of himself. The kind of idealisation that doesn't have to shave or worry about wardrobe malfunctions) perched on Kylo's lap, a picture in light blue lace. He bit his lip. He could only think of the reverse of the situation (again in an idealised world where things like weight and strength were no object), with Kylo in dark red, for a few moments, before he had to think very urgent thoughts about _Jabba the Hutt, Snoke in a mankini, whatever it was you heard with Father and the maids all those different times_ so he wasn't escorted out for public indecency. No. Lingerie was definitely too forward.

It must have been a few hours later when he checked the time. Kriff! He needed to leave, and he'd had no luck with a gift. He ducked into the nearest shop and frantically scanned the shelves.

There! It was hardly the best gift, but it was cute. A forlorn looking cat toy, with apricot fur and a stitched pout. The tag proclaimed her 'Millicent'. Perhaps Kylo would appreciate a bit of softness.

He quickly paid and hurried back to his shuttle.

As it took off he looked at the cat. Now it was paid for, he realised how small it was. What a pathetic gift. It burnt a little in his chest, a frustration that had been building and building ever since he'd realised he had to find Kylo a present. He pressed his face against the cool metal of the shuttle wall, trying to breathe deeply and not let a hitch or a sob break through. He was as pathetic as the kriffing cat.

He decided to check in on the function room before he headed back to his quarters to wrap this present. The party was already underway, several officers crowded 'round the bar and others chatting. As usual, the tinsel was out in full force. Hux felt itchy and dazzled just peeking into the room. He reminded himself to down some painkillers before he went to sleep. He carried on down the hall.

'Hey – Hux!' He turned. Kylo was hurrying up the corridor towards him, one arm held awkwardly behind his back. 'Where are you going?'

'Back to my room. There's – uh – there's something I need to do.' Hux prayed Kylo would _go away_ and also _not notice_ the little bag he was surreptitiously trying to push up his sleeve.

'Can I come with you? There's something I want to give you.' He should really say no. He should really put it off until later in the day. But- his hopeful face-

'Okay.'

Kylo walked with him, humming a tune Hux didn't recognise under his breath.

'Is your head alright? I don't normally get to do healing, so I might have been a bit rusty.'

'It's actually completely fine.' With all the stress he'd racked up, the fact he'd cracked his head open only the day before had fled his mind. There was no ache or scarring that he could feel.

'That's good.' Kylo's smiles. Hux was sure he could create a system-obliterating machine that was powered only by the megawatt beam of Kylo's private smiles. Ugh, he was so sappy. Disgusting. 'Have you seen the function room yet?'

'Yes.' Hux groaned, making a show of pinching the bridge of his nose in despair.

'I know, right? My eyes hurt already.'

'It looks like the room's had a tinsel-based anaphylactic shock.' Kylo laughed.

'That's a fantastic description.'

'It is, isn't it? I stole it off some old comedy show I saw once.'

'Are you always so honest with your thievery?' Hux tapped the side of his nose.

'That's for me to know…'

'…and me to find out?'

'Exactly.' Kylo shook his head.

They lapsed into a friendly silence for the last stretch to Hux's room. Hux prayed he'd remembered to tidy everything up in the bleary chaos of leaving at 3am. The sliding door revealed that yes, Hux had made his bed and tidied his towels and clothes away. He sent a quick 'thank you' to whatever higher power had suggested that was a good idea this morning.

'So what did you need, Kylo?' Hux turned away to shimmy out of his boots and peel his gloves off.

He got no reply.

'Kylo?'

He turned.

 _Kriff._

His bed was made. His clothes were away. His towels were hung up.

His wardrobe door, though?

Was open.

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ψ(｀∇´)ψ


	10. Chapter 10

It's over, it's done. it's finished. But was it fieldwork or reformatting this story that finally did me in? (it was fieldwork) (gradiometers are flipping heavy and so are resistometers) (my arms are going to be so hench now)

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Inside his wardrobe, the heap of reject presents were clearly visible, like a blaring neon sign at some dingy Outer Rim diner proclaiming 'Look at us! Look at us! Look at how pathetic and hung up on you your co-commander is!'. Hux cringed.

'Kylo…'

'Hux? Are these…?'

'Kylo… it's…'

Kylo had walked towards the cupboard and crouched down by it. He gingerly picked up the amulet, visibly snapped in half in the box Hux had stowed it in.

'Hux. This is my grandfather's amulet.'

'Yeah.' Hux could only whisper around the lump in his throat. 'I'm sorry it broke. I wanted you to have it but- ' His voice cracked, and the rest of his sentence came out watery. '-It broke and I messed up again.'

'Again? Hux, are these all…?' Hux couldn't look at him. He nodded, a sharp jerk of his head, half turned away from Kylo. The paper bag up his sleeve was pricking his arm. He drew it out. Might as well unearth everything at the same time. Hux walked on legs he could hardly believe supported his weight, and shakily placed the little cat on his heaping pile of mistakes.

'That's all.' Kylo was silent for a long moment. Hux sat down on his bed. He could feel the rush of his pulse in his ears – it felt like all the blood in his body was pounding in his head.

Hux watched Kylo stare at the pile. It felt like hours before Kylo stood up and came to sit beside Hux. Hux braced himself for Kylo's reaction. Being slammed into the wall again, or being force-choked, maybe.

Instead, he felt his hand squeezed and a pair of chapped lips pressed haltingly against his own. It only lasted a second, but Hux could still feel that pressure even after Kylo pulled away.

Hux had been wrong. All the blood in his body hadn't quite rushed to his head when Kylo found the presents. He knew that because now it _definitely had_.

'You went through all that for _me_?' Kylo punctuated his question with another gentle kiss. Hux couldn't reply. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. Kylo's brow furrowed.

'That is what we were leading to, right? Have I completely misread this? Oh, _Force_ , I have, haven't I? I'll go now, I'm sorry-' Hux caught Kylo's hand before he could get up. Steeling himself, he leant forward to initiate a kiss between him and Kylo for the first time. Kylo's lips were chapped, yes, but the more he kissed them the more familiar and endearing the sensation was.

From the moment he pulled away Kylo was talking again.

'So why all the presents? Was there something wrong with all of them? Can you show me?' Kylo pulled Hux up and towards the cupboard. 'You got the amulet from the ruin yesterday, but the others?'

'Well, um. The cat I found today because I didn't have anything else.' Kylo picked it up carefully.

'It's the same colour as you!' He held it up to Hux's hair. 'You could be siblings. Damn, Hux, this is really soft.' Kylo placed it in his lap.

'The socks… they were from the other day.'

'When I screwed up?'

'Yes.'

Kylo laughed.

'I'd probably have been happy to get the socks, really. You wouldn't believe how many pairs I get through. Can't stand wearing socks with holes in them.'

'Did no one ever teach you to mend your clothes?' It was standard for Exiles to wear the same clothes for years on end, merely fixing whatever broke in them until they disintegrated. Old habits died hard. Hux's socks were more darn than sock.

'Nah. I can jimmy an old starship control pad until it can fly across the galaxy but I'd have to do it in ripped clothes.'

Hux laughed.

'I should teach you.'

'Maybe you should.' Kylo smiled, and placed the socks beside him. He reached out to touch the bottles of lotion and bubbles from Hesperidium.

'Yes. Those. You rather put a wrench in my plans when you told me you didn't like that kind of thing.'

Kylo barked an exasperated spout of laughter.

'Only as much as you put a wrench in _mine_ by saying _you_ didn't like that kind of thing!'

'You had plans? What plans?' Kylo looked jumpy.

'…no matter. Nothing important. A-anyway, I do actually quite like that kind of thing.' Kylo lightly placed his hand on Hux's knee, trailing it upwards then letting it fall away. 'If we both like it, maybe we could try it together some time…' He leant close to Hux again, stealing another kiss, his hands starting to roam- before he blushed heavily, and sat back again. However nice steam-flushed Kylo looked, the actually blushing version was even nicer.

Kylo carefully pulled out 'The Imperial Handbook' next. He whistled low as he flipped through the pages.

'What was so bad about _this_? It looks pretty handy to have around.'

'It should be more useful than that.' Hux opened it to the spot where the pages were missing. 'See? Someone's pulled out some of the pages. There were flowcharts that walk you through every step of loads of important Imperial customs and protocols but they're gone.'

'You got this for me when I was worried about proving myself.' Kylo squeezed Hux's hand. 'Thank you.'

Hux dragged the droid out of the wardrobe next.

'It's a cleaning droid. I thought it would be useful for you, considering all the debris you create on a daily basis, but then I saw you punt that cleaning droid off one of the gangways and I realised it wasn't such a good idea.' Kylo laughed.

'I'm sorry I put you though that.' He traced a hand over the markings on the droid. 'It's really cute. I love it.'

The cleaning kit earned a lot of laughs. 'You _forgot_ I lost my helmet?!' Kylo guffawed.

'I was stressed! I thought it would be a sensible gift!' Kylo cut off his protests with another kiss.

'You're sweet.'

Kylo went very quiet when Hux explained the blaster. His fingers traced the designs, finding the fingerprint key, feeling the smooth planes.

'I'm sorry I undermined this. Giving me a weapon when I didn't have one is a big deal for me, Hux. Thank you.' Kylo laughed softly. 'I feel like every other word out of my mouth is 'thank you'. You've really outdone me here, Hux.'

Hux ducked his head, smiling.

'And what's this?' Kylo reached for the Arkanian box. Hux froze.

'That's- nothing! It's not important! You don't have to open that one!'

'Open it? You mean there's something inside?'

'Yes, the box is from my home planet. It's really not important, though-' It was too late. Kylo had opened the box. He pulled out the bracelet carefully, his eyes slowly taking in the colours of the fabric and the shiny clasps.

'What is this?'

Hux buried his face in his hands, his fingers cool against his hot cheeks. He reached around to unfasten the canister from around his neck, pulling out his mother's letter and handing it to Kylo wordlessly.

He could only hear Kylo's quiet breathing while he read. He knew it was way too soon to have made the damn bracelet.

Kylo's hands wrapped around his wrists, pulling Hux's hands away from his face. Hux didn't have time to judge Kylo's expression before he was once again being kissed, far more passionately than before. Kylo's tongue was in his mouth, Kylo's hands were in his hair, Kylo's body was half on top of his own.

When Kylo pulled away, he leant forward to mumble into Hux's ear.

'Help me put it on.'

Hux showed him how to centre it neatly, holding half the clasp to the back of his hand and crossing the fabric over each side until there was just enough to fasten the two clasp halves together. Kylo turned his wrist from side to side, watching how the metal caught the light.

'I love it. Thank you so much.' Kylo kissed him again. 'Thank you for caring.' He kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him. Hux's knee had ended up between Kylo's legs before Kylo suddenly pulled away again.

'I… Present. For you. I have one too.' He reached behind him and picked up a large parcel from where it had been tossed unceremoniously to the floor.

Hux looked up at him. Kylo had got him a gift, too? With all the stress and turbulence surrounding the day, he'd completely forgotten that one received gifts as well as gave them.

He quickly unwrapped it, pulling out a large, soft, black and red blanket.

'I know it's not very original, but I thought you might like it?' Kylo looked worried. 'To be honest, I went through a similar process to you when trying to find a present. 'Cept I shoved all the bad stuff in the vents.' Hux didn't know why, but he found that hysterical. Muffling his laughter in the blanket, he gasped out.

'You're telling me… that those blockages we spent all that time mapping and worrying about… were failed presents for me?!' Kylo nodded sheepishly. 'That's incredible. _Incredible_.' Hux leant up and kissed Kylo again. 'Thank you. For the blanket. And for caring.' He added. He pulled the blanket around Kylo as well.

'Do you know, Hux, I suddenly feel like I _can't_ make the party after all.' Kylo's hand had made it back to Hux's leg.

'You know what, Kylo, I think I know what you mean.' His hand was trailing upwards again, but it wasn't falling away this time.

'I think I feel like some _other_ festivities…' Kylo nestled his face into Hux's neck. Hux squeaked when he felt Kylo's lips touch his neck.

'On the _bed_ , please. I already can't feel my legs.'

'Oh _really_? What a shame.' Kylo's hand was moving rather a lot higher now. Suddenly he was in Kylo's arms, then on his soft duvet with Kylo above him.

Kylo pressed their foreheads together.

'Thank you for my presents.' He whispered to Hux, breath hot on his lips.

'Thank you for mine.' Hux replied, wrapping his arms around Kylo's neck.

When they kissed, Kylo's taste getting more familiar every time, Hux finally felt as though he'd found his place.

* * *

 _Obviously, Kylo keeps all the presents Hux tried to get for him. He upgrades the cleaning droid to an extremely cleanly personal guard by duct-taping a knife onto it and christening it the AnkleFucker 9000. Tales of caution are whispered throughout Rebel bases after tens of soldiers are carried back, yelling about their Achilles. No one knows what would happen should it get into a fight with BB-8, but it is predicted that a battle as monumental as that between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader would erupt. All live in fear of that day._

 _It's a good thing all the action takes place in Hux's room in this fic, otherwise Hux would have come to the revelation that Kylo's room is a complete fucking mess. Instant ramen pots with their own ecosystems, folks. He's that guy._

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If you enjoyed this story, please review! I'm always an open ear for prompts/fills/concrit/declarations of undying love!


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